Author's note: All characters in the forthcoming sequel to "Teacher's Pet" are of the age 18 or older. Also an apology, to the lovely readers that emailed me, for the long wait for this sequel. I hope that this makes up for the delay.
High school is tough. When it finally starts getting interesting, reality comes along and screws everything up.
After I left Mr. Pearl the day that he first kissed me, I walked home in a bit of a daze. I mean I had spent a fair amount of energy hating the man, and now I was all tingly from him. It just didn't make much sense to me. So I lost myself in my thoughts of conflicting emotions for the rest of the evening. My parents were, thankfully, too busy to sense my preoccupation during dinner. After eating a few bites of truly tasteless food (could have been eating cardboard for all I could tell), I retired to my bedroom.
I shut the door and threw myself onto my sinfully soft queen sized bed and let my thoughts take control for awhile. I pondered whether feeling like I did from one kiss from Mr. Pearl meant I was attracted to Neanderthals and not enlightened, sensitive men. Then I wondered whether I should report him for inappropriate touching, when I remembered with a blush, that other than him kissing me, I had been the one groping him. Finally I let myself just think of how if felt when his lips touched mine.
I remembered the light pressure of his lips against mine. The taste of his mouth, a hint of mint and coffee. How strong his body felt when I pressed into him. I thought about the little gasp he gave when I accidentally brushed against his bulging pants.
My eyes drifted closed as I rolled over onto my back. My hands roamed down my body as my mind focused on Mr. Pearl's kiss, his strength, his touch. My left hand unbuttoned the vest I wore as my right worked on my jeans' zipper. My body felt like it was on fire. My fingers grazed over my hardened nipples through the lace of my bra. I gasped at the sensation when my hand pressed firmly against my tender breasts.
As my other hand dipped into my open jeans, a knock sounded on my bedroom door. Working quickly, I refastened my vest and jeans, while asking what the doorknocker wanted.
"Honey, Mili's play is tonight remember?" My mother reminded me as she opened my door and walked into my room. I sat up on the bed as she looked down at me. "Are you feeling alright?"
"I'm fine, Mom, really. I just forgot about Mili's play opening tonight." I said, standing up. "I'll go take a quick shower and change." I walked to my closet to find something appropriate for my best friend's opening night. I grabbed a sapphire blue velvet dress. Aside from the form fitting bodice, it was modestly cut to the ankle and flared out from the waist. I presented my choice for my mother's inspection.
"Lovely," she agreed. "I'll go on downstairs until you get ready." With that she left my room, and me silently cursing the interruption.
At the time I thought that the untimely intrusion into my personal time was as bad as it could get. I was wrong.
The next day I dressed, for one of the first times, with a particular need to impress. I wanted to have my brutish biology teacher to take one look at me and have only my biological makeup on his mind. I put my long red hair up in a loose knot, with careless tendrils falling around my face. Starting my preparation for my day, I put on a matching set of ivory lace panties and bra. I wore, in place of my well worn jeans of choice, an ivory, tan, and black plaid wraparound skirt. It fastened on my left side with an oversized safety pin. My blouse was a ivory silk, lace-trimmed tank top. I wore a plain black blazer over the top. To complete my new "school girl" look, I wore my knee high black boots. Looking in the mirror, I couldn't help but feel attractive.
My feeling of satisfaction was short lived.
Arriving at school, I was assaulted by the overzealous decorations filling the hallways and stairways. All the posters announcing "GO TEAM GO!" and whatever other witty catechisms that the junior and varsity cheerleading squads brainstormed to come up with. Somehow, in my complete and utter self absorption, I completely forgot that this was the week leading up to our homecoming football game. Not that I really cared, but the realization that Mr. Pearl was in fact the coach of said football team, well I started to feel the optimism I sported earlier in my bedroom fading fast.
The rest of the day passed in relative normalcy. I went to each class, answered the questions directed at me, received my high achieving grades on tests, and went on to the next class to repeat the scenario. My best friend noticed my obvious preoccupation and called me on it during lunch.
"What's the deal, Jess?" Mili asked, apparently irritated that I wasn't listening to her regurgitated detail of the opening night cast party.
It took me a few seconds to realize that someone was talking to me, and looking down I wondered where the Hell the tray of odorous food came from. "What?" I asked, not trying to mask my confusion.
"Well, I was asking what is wrong with you," Mili said, attempting to draw my focus from the disgusting food on my tray back to her. "You've been in your own little universe today."
Looking up, I saw an actual flash of concern on Mili's face. Frowning she kept my gaze, while I searched for an explanation that didn't mention my irritation with a possible rendezvous with Mr. Pearl.
"I don't know, maybe I'm just tired." I answered awkwardly. Grabbing my fork, I tried poking around on the plate.
"Tired? From what, you didn't stay for the party last night, even though Joe was totally asking about you." Mili said, her concern forgotten as she started her recounting of the previous night's party.